Goodbye, Apathy
by lethalspark
Summary: A fourteen-year old girl discovers her new abilities. What will happen when she meets the "Boogeyman" Sylar ? Will she choose to do what is right and save the world? Or become a power-hungry villain? Maybe she'll just lose her sanity. Possible swearing. T
1. Chemistry Class

This story is written from the perspective of a fourteen/fifteen year old girl.  
That means, there will probably be comments coming from the main character. I think by doing so makes it sound more like a real adventure.

written by: lethalspark (klb)  
**no copyright infringement intended**. :)

* * *

**I. Chemistry Class; March 2006**

_I'm doing something wrong.  
I just **know** it.  
_The red liquid in front of me starts to froth and bubble inside the test tube.  
I look around frantically at the others' experiments and they're a nice, green color.  
The right color.  
"Audrey, are you sure-"  
"Yes." I snap back at my lab partner.

He shrugs and leaves me to my business. Our business, actually. He justs doesn't want to be a part of it. Trevor --that's his name-- leans back on his chair.

My lab partner is useless, I think.  
The teacher isn't that great either.  
But he's not as bad as my lab partner.

Yet Trevor's my best friend.  
What a friendship.  
I sit in my seat and comtemplate about it, leaving my red liquid to do whatever it was doing earlier.

Five minutes later, the red concoction explodes and splatters everywhere, everyone and everything. I resist the urge to laugh. My stomach is starting to hurt.

"Audrey..." My teacher mutters as I watch his face become flushed with anger.

I throw my hands in the air as if I'm a criminal suddenly caught in the act.  
My teacher glares at me and I recieve the message.  
He opens the door and scornfully watches as I walk myself to the principal's office.

* * *

_Jeez, this place is freezing,_ I tell myself.

I'm in the office now. Regardless of how absurd this sounds, I'm not much of a troublemaker. Sounds funny, huh? Lately, however, I've become a bit rebellious. What happened in class was just the beginning.

When the headmaster arrives, he sits in the chair that faces mine. We have a long stare-down before he says anything. I've been told that he could tell if a person was innocent or not just by looking at them. But that was just some rumor.  
The teachers here have been known to exaggerate the truth; therefore, the principal can't rely on them all the time with these sorts of things.

He stands and paces back and forth, with his hands placed behind his back.  
"Audrey Church" He says.  
"That's me." I reply.

He remains silent and refuses to make another statement. He continues to pace with his hands behind his back. The soft treading of his sleek, black shoes is the only noise available. I watch as he goes into another room and closes the door. But it doesn't make it all the way, and I could see a bit of the inside. It appeared to be a fileroom of some sort. The only other item visible was an electric fan. The blades turned quickly, yet silently as he looked around for something.

He extended his hand. I watched intently, glued to my seat. His hand begins to shake slightly. With an abrupt jerk of his hand, a file flies towards him and he catches it. He comes out of the room looking quite worried. He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his sweaty forehead. I'm amazed at this seemingly impossible feat, but I keep my composure. I replay the phenomenon in my head countless times until I can remember every last detail.

The principal --his name is Mr. Brian Davis, by the way-- flips through the pages of the certain file. Of course, it turns out to be mine.

"You have a very good school record," Mr. Davis says, astonished.  
"I assume most students that are sent to your office aren't normally on the honor roll." I reply. Sometimes, I become too proud of myself. It's an uncontrollable habit for me. I've been "put down" so many times, I have a need to feel better. To be... more special than the rest.

"No," He simply agrees. "But it doesn't mean you're off the hook"  
Off the hook. I like that phrase.  
I nod. I'm guilt-ridden as I recall the huge mess I created in the Chem Lab. I'll probably have to straighten up the place after this chat.

"I'll send you back to clean that up later." Mr. Davis concludes.  
I wait for a few minutes before I speak.  
"Is there anything else, sir"  
"No. I have an meeting to attend." --He walks me out the door-- "Don't forget to clean. Good day, Ms. Church"  
I salute in return. "G'day, sir"  
He raises his eyebrow suspiciously and shuts the door.

I sulk all the way back to the Chemistry lab. My sneakers squeak as I walk on the mopped floors of the hallway.  
When I reach my destination, I open the door and sigh.

_Time to get to work._


	2. Collide

COLLIDE

It's lunchtime.  
I missed the last period to clean up the mess in the lab.  
We're dismissed early today, because of some teachers' meeting. I'm eating lunch at the cafeteria anyway.

I grab a sandwhich and walk to the soda machine. There aren't very many people here.  
I insert the dollar and the cola appears. The force makes it fall to the floor and roll to a nearby table.  
I sigh and crouch down in order to pick it up. My hand is only a few inches away, when something unexpected happens.

The coke. Flies. To my hand.

I gulp. Scenes of the office incident flood into my mind.  
I drop the coke and walk in a fast-paced manner into the hallway.  
I try not to look suspicious, but I can't help it.  
Either I'm some weirdo like Mr. Davis, or there's some kind of flying soda discovery I haven't been told about.

The few students sitting in the cafeteria look at me oddly. I don't even have to look back at them; I can feel their ice-cold stares stabbing at my back. I make sure my backpack is secure and I run outside for some fresh air.

When I step out, I can feel the damp April day weigh upon my shoulders. It doesn't make anything better. More like worse.

I start my walk down the road, heading to the police department. As I walk through the city, I see the small shops lining the streets. I check my watch. It's still stuck on 12:04pm. I sigh. I look around and notice a small clock shop.

Gray and Sons, the sign says in bold lettering.

I stay outside and try to look through the window.

I see a man with nicely-combed hair and black-rimmed glasses. He's wearing a cardigan or vest. I'm not really sure what it's called. To sum it all up, he's your typical "nerd" as far as I know.

I walk over to the entrance and open the door. A bell rings to indicate my presence, like most shop doors do. Mr. Davis is nowhere in sight, and the shopowner sits quietly in his desk and examines a watch.

"Excuse me," I say.

He looks at me and stands abruptly. He's really tall. I only reach up to his shoulders.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to the door. I'm Gabriel Gray."

There's a silence between us. I don't really know what to say.

"I can fix that." He says.

"What?" I reply.

"The watch. I can fix your watch." He extends his hand to recieve the watch.

"Oh, right." I give the black Swiss Army watch to him.

He sits down in his desk and takes the wristwatch apart. I observe in fascination.

Once he's finished, and the watch is finally ticking again, he gives it back to me. My eyes gleam.

"Thanks, Mr. Gabriel! This is my favorite kind of watch. I'd never buy a new one."

He apparently enjoys my interest in some kind of clock.

"It's no problem," He says kindly.

"I have another Swiss watch that needs some work. Can I come by tomorrow?"

"Sure." He smiles.

I pay him what is due and take my leave.

I'm a few meters away from the shop when I notice... Mr. Brian Davis! entering the store. Through the window, I see Davis and Gray conversing with each other.

The two walk over to a desk.

They sit down together, and Mr. Davis focuses his attention on something. And, just like in the office, the object moves toward him. He looks back at Gabriel and expects him to know why this happens.

Gabriel looks at him with an odd expression. He searches for something on the desk.

I go closer to the window. I shade it from the sun to see more clearly.

Davis turns around. He dropped something from his pocket.

Gabriel grabs a crystal from the desk and raises it over Mr. Davis' head.

Davis is so busy talking, he doesn't notice.

Gabriel forces the crystal down on his head.

Without any hesitation, I pound on the window. My yelling is muffled in Gray's point of view.

Gabriel looks at me with surprise and stands motionless with the bloodied crystal in his hands. He drops it.

I see Mr. Davis, dead, on the floor. A pool of blood surrounds him.

I run to the door and barge inside.

"Gabriel!" --I run over to the body of Mr. Davis-- "What..? Why..?"

It's obvious Mr. Davis is already dead; all I do is look at the killer--Gabriel--and expect an answer. I should be feeling scared, but I don't. I don't know what I feel.

Gabriel smiles.

He's not the same person I encountered before.

He signals me to turn around. I hesitate.

"Go on," He says, still signalling.

I turn around and close my eyes. I can hear him tear Mr. Davis apart.  
I'm angry at myself for not stopping him, but there is really nothing I can do. Gabriel is twice my size; I can't run away, or he'll catch me. I can't call the police, or he might catch me, too.

I glance around the room and notice a telelphone hanging on the wall. I stare at it.  
I turn around slightly and see... Gabriel observing Mr. Davis' brain?

I turn back around with a disgusted look on my face. I bite my lip and look at the telephone again. I have half a mind to go and call the police, but then again, it would take too long to give them my location.

I'm afraid. Afraid that Gabriel will do the same thing to me.

I take the risk.  
I run to the phone.

Gabriel looks up from his work and charges at me.  
He restrains my arms and lifts me up from the ground.

I kick and struggle in hopes of escaping.

"Stay calm," He says softly.

I scoff. "You must be kidding me! You just killed my principal, and you expect me to STAY CALM?!"

He holds tighter; so tight, I can hear his heartbeat. The erratic pulse sticks to my mind, like a song I cannot get out of my head.

I feel quite uncomfortable. I'm weakening, so all I can do is squirm.

After a few minutes, I give up all attempts. He still hasn't put me down.

"... You can let me go now." I tell him.

He places me in a chair and leans on the table. He takes off his bloody glasses. He takes a deep breath and turns around with a gun in his hand.

My eyes become wide, and I jump out of the chair. I back up into a wall. I'm trapped.

Where did that come from? I tell myself.

He gets closer.

I extend my hand. Gabriel looks at it, then to the gun. The weapon is shaking in his hand. He looks at me again with furrowed brows.

The gun flies from his hand, but it misses mine. Instead, it hits my head and I fall unconscious.

My last thought: Way to go, Audrey. 


	3. Flight Plan

I wake up on an unfamiliar bed and try to sit up. My head is throbbing, and my throat feels dry. 

_Don't move._ The deep voice came from location I could not pinpoint.

I obey relunctantly, and sit up straight. Events (since I was last conscious) flash through my head.

"Where am I?" I inquire.

I get no answer.

I look around the room I'm in and take mental pictures. The most interesting site I see is the wall in another room. Written with red ink (could be blood...) were the words "FORGIVE ME" and etc.

"Gabriel, is that you?" I asked, although the answer was a bit obvious to me.

"My name is Sylar." The voice says quickly.

"Gabriel, where am I?"

"My name. It's **SYLAR**." He says sternly with a tinge of annoyance.

I get up from the bed regardless of the major headache and I look for him. The second I notice him, I get thrown into a wall. I hover a few feet above the ground. I suddenly notice how short I am.

I now feel like I'm being choked by an invisible hand.

Sylar moves closer to me and his eyes dig deep into mine.

"You ask too many questions."

I drop to the floor and rub my neck.

"Get whatever things you have. We're leaving."

I do not protest. Rather, I grab a backpack and stuff some snacks, a waterbottle, etc. inside.

"Where--?" I stop talking. I think if I ask any more questions, he'll throw me out of the window. I'm annoying the hell out of him, and I know it.

"You're going to help me find someone."

"Me?" I ask, "Why me?"

"I saw what you can do last night. You're special, as I am."

_Special..._ I think.

I shoulder my bag and walk to the door. I place my hand on the doorknob and look at the man.

"Let's go, _Sylar_." I'll have to get used to that name.

Sylar grins wolfishly. His new favorite expression.

We use the fire escape to exit the apartment building, and take a cab all the way to the airport. Our next stop: India. I honestly have no idea why Sylar chose that place as our destination, but the plan is set, and I don't have the guts to complain. Anyway, I already have a fake passport. I made it a few months ago during a boring afternoon. Looks like the plan could possibly work.

"Sy?"

I call his name as we sit in the lonely airport waiting area. We're about half an hour early. He's over at a coke machine, somewhat irritated because the machine ate his money. He sort of kicks it and walks back to where I'm sitting. He sits in the seat next to me and grunts.

"I don't see what we can accomplish, going to India and all. You have a girlfriend or something over there?"

Sylar narrows his eyes, apparently not amused by the joke and replies, "I have some business to take care of."

I nod and look down at my feet.

"You might need a new identity." Sylar adds.

"Got it covered," I assure him.

He raises his eyebrow and looks at me with a stern face, as if saying "Don't let your guard down".

After that short conversation, Sylar became very quiet, occasionally opening his mouth to say something, but no words came. I fidget in my seat and twiddle my fingers, wishing that the plane could be ready faster. We are an hour and a half early.

"I'm gonna... get my ticket." I say.

He nods as I walk to the desk. He watches me as I purchase a ticket in the name of Kathryn Tennant, born somewhere in Wyoming. The man at the desk places a stamp or something on the paper and scrutinizes me. I fidget (again) nervously, as if he knows about my fake identity.

"Wyoming, huh?" He says.

I stay silent, and he notices my confused expression.

"I grew up there,"--He smiles--"are you a cowgirl or something?"

I try to hide my confusion and nod. "Yessir, I come from Fremont county." My lie is already starting to grow.

He smiles and places another stamp on the false passport and says, "Good day, ma'am."

"G'day, sir"

I turn around and examine the man seated at the chair. Sylar sits quietly, staring outside at the jet planes. I've only been around him for a day and a half, and I think I already know a lot about him. As far as I know, he's developed a dual personality: Gabriel, the quiet, nerdy, friendly type; and Sylar, the cynical bad guy.

"_What_?" Sylar interrupts my thoughts and looks at me with his annoyed face.

"Nothing." I mumble, taking a seat beside him again. He's in "**Sylar mode**".


	4. Flight Plan, Part Two

We're sitting.  
And sitting. And sitting.  
It feels like forever.

I get extremely bored and watch a strange man kick the very coke machine Sylar took his anger out on earlier. As I watch, he gives the last blow to the machine and creates a dent on the side. A big dent. It wouldn't be hard to miss. The machine is obviously broken now. The man's eyes seem to pop out and he looks to his left, and then to his right. He makes a run for it, and disappears. I fall silent and look over at Sylar, who seems to be sleeping with one eye slightly open. Of course, he wasn't awake to see the scene.

DING DONG

I hear a lady's voice declaring the arrival of our flight, and some other nonsense I couldn't understand.

"Mm. That's our plane." I say quietly to myself, and shake Sylar by the shoulder gently.

He opens his right eye first and looks around lazily. Following is his left eye. He slowly sits up straight in his chair and grabs his pack. He stands in silence and gets in queue. I follow quietly, having an absurd thought that if I broke the silence, something catastrophic might happen. I feel somewhat uncomfortable with his Sylar personality. Come to think of it, I'm not even comfortable talking to Gabriel. I suppose I'll get used to it, though.

We wait patiently in line, and I roll back and forth on the balls of my feet. It's a habit of mine. Sylar turns around and faces me.

"Stop that. It's distracting."

"Okay"

I obey and place my hands behind my back. I feel like a child who just got scolded by her mother. We're now at the front of the line, and the lady takes Sylar's plane ticket, rips it, and does the same to mine. She smiles, and looks down at me, then up at Sylar.

"Taking the kid on vacation?"--She checks his ticket--"Mr. Gabriel Gray?"

Sylar smiles curtly and nods.

"Just curious, but why does she have a different surname? Tennant, is it?" She inquires.

I look up and nod innocently, without saying a word. Sylar speaks.

"The mother wanted my child to keep her maiden name," He answers, shaking his head.

"Aww," She says; she looks at me and smiles lopsidedly.

Deep down, I sort of want to punch that face in.

She hands us both our tickets, and we walk through the hallway into the plane.

"Dang, you're manipulative." I grumble, "By the way, do I look five to you?"

Sylar looks at me and smirks, still not answering me. Instead, before stepping inside the aircraft, he offers to let me in first.

I narrow my eyes warily and step into the plane.

All throughout the flight, neither Sylar nor I can sleep. Babies are crying and wailing left and right; women are complaining about how cold their meal is; and everybody in general snore like hell.

Sylar and I groan and lean our heads back simultaneously.

"You didn't have to bring me half way around the world," I say bitterly, "especially on a flight like this."

Sylar does not answer.

I rub my sore eyes and close them momentarily. I drift away to dreamland before I can even open my eyes. My head slowly falls and lands on Sylar's shoulder. He blinks and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Audrey..?"

No response.

Sylar decides to use my new identity, just in case. He sort of pats my head awkwardly and clears his throat.

"Kathryn."

I wake up in a second, looking dazed. "Uh?"

"Nothing." He replies softly.

"Oh, okay." I yawn and close my eyes again.

Not long after, my head falls back on his shoulder. He sighs, and shoves my head to the left, away from him. I don't seem to react. He smiles contentedly and lays his head back again. 


	5. Bloody Murder, Chandra Suresh

**Thanks for the reviews! I'm gonna try to take the advice of** Feather of the Phoenix** and slow down the storyline. The thing is, my mind works a little bit too fast to take things "step-by-step" or something.**

**Also, I'm very sorry for the VERY LONG delay!**

* * *

When I finally awaken, the plane seems to be making its descent. I haven't felt so rejuventated in my life. I turn to my side and shake the dormant serial killer violently.

His eyes bolt open and he stares at me, looking both cross and tired at the same time.

"I think we're here," I almost yell, "And I shouldn't have had that mocha frappe last night."

I rub my pounding head. Caffeine usually does not come into effect for me until later on, unlike others.

Sylar groans and sits up slowly, blinking once in a while to straighten out his temporarily blurred vision.

I quickly become a little bit sedate at his reaction and clear my throat. I probably won't sleep tonight.

"Sorry. Good morning."

Sylar grunts and whispers an inaudible "Morning," in reply before closing his eyes again.

The plane's doors open and suddenly everyone becomes so animate. The isles are crowded and I couldn't even get up to retrieve my backpack from the "compartment above my head", as Sylar calls it.

Sylar stands up and tries to get through the crowd, excusing himself and everything. Wait -- he was _excusing_ himself?

"Gabriel," I say.

"Yes?" He replies politely.

"Nothing.." My voice trails off, and I watch him as he grabs my backpack down from the "compartment". He gently lays it on my lap and takes his seat next to me. And then he begins to read one of those in-flight magazines as we wait patiently for the isles to clear.

_I wonder if the rest of my life will be as confusing as it is now,_ I think.

Gabriel Sylar catches me staring at him strangely and smiles.

_Then again, it could be worth it._

We make it outside the airport, and it's about noontime. Sylar beckons for a cab and looks that me.

"None of that hyper business, alright?"

**Sylar mode.**  
I nod silently as the taxi arrives.

"Where to?" I hear the driver say in his Indian accent.

I see a pair of red dangling dice hanging on his mirror. A bobblehead sat on the dashboard. I study the rest of my surroundings as Sylar tells him the address of a man named Chandra Suresh. I don't remember the address.

_I look out the window and look at the people living in the streets. I can't help but take pity on them, but what am I to do? I can't save them. Or can I? I feel sad when I see a lone Indian boy staring at us as we pass by in our automobile._

"Hey, we're here." Sylar interrupts my thoughts and looks at me. I can't tell whether this is Sylar or Gabriel. His eyes are fierce, yet they also seem gentle.

I follow Sylar out of the vehicle. I decide to lay off thinking too much for a while.

Sylar pays the driver and stays put until the cab is out of sight. Then, he hurriedly moves to the door and knocks. I stand behind him.

"Stay outside," He tells me, "and if you hear anything out of the ordinary, don't panic."

I nod.

_I trust this guy, but there's something I don't get about him. To me, his motives seem unselfish; maybe he wants to use his powers to help the world? and he's seeking this Suresh man for help? _

_Or, he could just be **flat out crazy**._

I dismiss the thought and watch as he is hospitably greeted by the house owner. Sylar smiles in return, but I can tell it's all an act. I move to the window and strain myself in an attempt to eavesdrop.

Chandra begins to talk about his powers, his being "special", what he could do for the world... but Sylar doesn't appear happy.

_He wants more,_ I thought, _more power_.

Sylar knocks over a vase and makes Chandra jump a little in surprise. Chandra backs away as fast as he could, but I knew it would be too late for him. Sylar's signature wolfish grin spreads across his face. He takes one hand and watches as Chandra lifts off the ground in sync. He throws Chandra against the kitchen wall and hesitates as a little blood drips from the side of his mouth. I could see Chandra's fear easily, but he tried so hard to conceal it.

_He's a brave man, I can't let him go down like this,_ I told myself._ But then again, Sylar would become more accustomed to his power. He'd be in more control... No! I can't think like that!_ I fought back, with myself, throwing more excuses to leave the two to their own affair, and giving myself reasons to go and save the man.

And it then happened. I burst into the door and tackle the unaware Sylar, throwing him to the ground. I rush over to Chandra's side and find no need to examine him. He's dead. Sylar, now standing, grins with a splatter of blood across his face. He stabbed Chandra all over with regular kitchen utensils before I could intervene.

I look at Sylar with a _"how could you do this?!"_ expression, and he exits the room without another word. I look at the corpse sadly and try to convince myself that it's not my fault.

I could have saved him, though. I was just **too afraid**.


	6. Foreigner

**This story will become more AU by the chapter, since I can't remember what exactly happened in the series. Uh, I'll have a bit of Japanese in this chapter. I'm sure you know why. Don't worry, though! I have translations in parentheses. :)**

* * *

I follow Sylar out of the house carrying Suresh on my back. His feet drags on the floor as I walk, since he's a bit taller than I am. I don't worry about anybody noticing, Suresh lives in one of those neighborhoods where everybody just leaves people to their own business.

Sylar looks at me, surprised. I appear as if I had forgotten the whole incident inside.

"He's not that heavy," I assure him, although I am getting tired quickly.

I use my powers and sort of make him hover over my back, to lighten the load. I let out a sigh of relief.

He goes to the side of the street and almost beckons for a taxi.

"I think I'll walk. Or something." I say, looking at the corpse on my back.

A silence envelops between us as Sylar ponders over what to do. He knows he screwed up by taking his anger out on the man, but there's nothing that could be done now.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a sudden sound of an object hitting the dumpster averts both of our attention.

A short, Japanese-looking man emerges from inside the trash and says to us, "Where am I?" in a bad English accent.

"India," I reply. The normal reaction would be to stare, but I've realised throughout the years that I'm not very normal. Instead, Sylar was the one with his eyes glued to the Asian.

"Sylar" --I nudge him and whisper-- "it's not polite to stare."

He looks at me, narrows his eyes, and walks away. Where he was planning to go, I had no clue.

I walk to the man and bow like I saw on the television, the channel where they showed different customs and stuff.

"_Watashi no namae wa_ Audrey _desu_, _yoroshiku onegaishimasu_." (My name is Audrey. Nice to meet you.)

Obviously, I told him my real name. I scold myself in my head for forgetting my new identity. Then again, it might be okay. This man shouldn't be a problem.

The Japanese chattered excitedly, hearing his own language spoken in a different place.

Sylar pauses his walk and looks behind his back. "You know Japanese?"

I shrug and reply, "I read it in a book."

The man keeps talking in his own tongue.

"Whoah, wait a minute-- _Wakarimasen. Anata wa eigo o hanashimasu ka_?" (I don't understand. Can you speak English?)

"Ah-- _Hai_!" (Yes!) The man hesitates, "Do... you know... where New York?"

"It's on the other side of the world." I give him a crooked half-smile. _Whatever that looks like..._

He appears a little melancholy as I say this. I pat his back in an attempt to make him feel better, and suddenly he's all joyous again.

"You-- want to come with me?" He says excitedly.

I look at him with a puzzled expression and lay the body beside the dumpster. I'm surprised he hasn't asked about it yet. "What?"

"I-- teleport! You.. go with me?"

I blinked. "Uh?"

Sylar suddenly realises whom she was talking to. Suresh had a picture, an address and some info on him on his desk.

**Hiro Nakamura. The time-stopper/teleporter.**

Sylar runs to us, knowing exactly what would happen.

Hiro grabs my right arm, and Sylar manages to get a hold on my shoulder before we're all thrown into some sort of vortex.

A few seconds later, I fall on Times Square, in a most uncomfortable position. I rub my head and groan.

"Oh-- sorry, I let go on accident." Hiro flushes and apologizes.

Sylar ends up beside me and looks around.

It was already nighttime and I smile. I love the city lights. I suddenly remember Suresh's body and look around for it.

_Shoot._

"Sy," I whisper frantically, "I forgot the body."

I imagine the corspe laying in the middle of the alley, and some kid traipses by and sees it.

"My fingerprints must be on it, too!"

"All the reason why you should stay with me." Sylar smiles.

I don't know whether to smile or to kidney-punch him for not helping me with my dilemma.

"Yo." Sylar and I look at Hiro, whom we failed to remember for a split second, "Sushi?" He grins.


	7. No Trust Yet

**My apologies if this chapter's a little later than usual. I'm trying my hardest to keep this story alive, while starting on a Pirates of the Caribbean, and possibly a Naruto fiction. Enjoy! And please, excuse my tenses. I was half awake when I wrote this one, and I think I've spotted a few mistakes, if not many...**

**I DO NOT OWN THE SERIES KNOWN AS HEROES.  
ily, fans. :D**

* * *

Hiro Nakamura grabs my arm and takes me to the first Japanese store he can see. The neon sign, bright and colorful as it is, doesn't seem to attract much attention. Firstly, part of it is broken, so instead of "Sushi", it says "S--h-", which doesn't really make any sense; secondly, there are many other bright lights to be noticed.

When we enter the small sushi bar, I find only a few people sitting there and staring at the television set absentmindedly. Hiro begins to converse with the man behind the bar in Japanese, and I hear the bartender telling him repeatedly that he only speaks English. A smile almost creeps onto my face until I notice that Sylar has gone missing again. I frown and suddenly feel a chill run down my spine.

I can see him in the dark corner, watching a young lady fill a few cups of soy sauce. I try to watch both of them intently, while not acting too suspicious; that's kind of hard if you can imagine.

The girl, by accident, spills a little bit of the sauce onto the floor. And instead of wiping the mess, she just looks at it. Her gaze is so intense I find it funny, but resist the urge to laugh or smile. And abruptly, the stain disappears. It doesn't evaporate or anything, it just disappears.

_Making things invisible, eh?_ The thought automatically appears in my mind. It probably ran through Sylar's at the same moment, too, because he looks as if he's ready to attack his prey.

I gulp, hard. Recalling the last murder makes my stomach churn, and not in the good, digestive way. I feel nervous, but there are no butterflies. I feel like fainting, actually.

I look into his gleaming eyes. The same, demented expression takes over his face. He moves toward his next victim, trying to keep a steady, yet quick pace.

Courage washes over my fear and I hold his arm. My eyes close, and I feel a rush of cold wind or something of the like. I hold my breath the entire time, opening my eyes only to check if Sylar is with me.

I hit the ground hard on my belly and leave my head buried in the ground and groan. I feel Sylar's impact on the earth only seconds after my arrival. I lift my head and take a glance at my surroundings.

_Did I just teleport?_

I stagger upwards. Or something like that. Sylar rubs his head and looks about, rather disoriented. He doesn't seem maniacal anymore. His eyes appear soft once again.

He looks at me, concerned. "You're hurt."

I can feel small drops of blood trickle down my head, in the area where my temples are located. "Oh, it's nothing."

_These personality changes are killing me._

Sylar digs through his pockets and takes out a filthy handkerchief. And before he tries to clean my forehead with it, I turn down the offer. Instead, I use my sleeve. It's not clean, but it looks more sanitary than the kerchief.

I place a hand on my hip and use the other one to shade my eyes from the sun. The heat was blistering.

"I see a diner over there. Let's go." I point to a small building in the middle of the desert we were standing in. I hope Sylar has forgotten the past few events at the bar after he hit his head on the ground.

Still a bit confused, he nods and starts the trek.

"No clue," I conclude happily, and follow the daft "special people" slayer.

**I'm having a hard time continuing this story. My interest for it is quickly fading, which is a bad thing. I can't write fanfiction well if I don't care for it anymore.**

**Is the Writers' Strike still going on? UGH. :P**


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